The Man in the Mirror
by Dinas Emrys
Summary: After letting Ruby off the hook for her latest escapade, Ozpin finds himself ruminating over some of the choices he's made throughout his life, regretting the solitude that comes with leadership. Hogwarts AU. Done for Day 3 of RWBY Relationship week. Ozpin & Ozpin


Disclaimer: RWBY is the property of Roosterteeth and the creation of Monty Oum.

Day 3 of RWBY RS Week: Ozpin &amp; Ozpin

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**The Man in the Mirror**

The headmaster watched as Miss Rose threw the cloak around her shoulders, the young woman vanishing beneath its swirling folds. A few footfalls reached his ears as she snuck back out into the corridor, fading as the magic of the cloak extended to hide them as well. Still he waited, giving the young girl plenty of time to sneak past the caretaker who would soon be making his nightly check down the halls. Plenty of time to slip back into her common room, past the portrait of the aged operatic, and head back to bed. Long enough for the headmaster to admit that he was procrastinating.

Rubbing behind his glasses, Ozpin heaved a sigh as deep as it was long. No one had ever said that the Beacon headmaster position would be easy. Still, he would be lying if he claimed that he hadn't been feeling rather stretched thin lately. There was always more to do, more to arrange, and making sure that Miss Rose 'happened' across the mirror had been of the easier tasks to accomplish.

But now it had to be moved, placed where it would be safe from the person who wanted it the most. And he could hardly move the bloody thing without looking at it.

And looking at it was the last thing he wanted to do.

He hadn't lied to Ruby, Not exactly. A new mug _would_ be nice. Particularly nice, actually. His favorite had developed a ring he couldn't quite seem to scrub clean, and in all fairness, everyone _did_ always get him books. And the man he saw in the mirror _did_ have a different cup.

Both of them did. Two pairs of thin brown eyes stared back at him beneath a chaotic bird's-nests of greying hair. Two pairs of spectacles resting on two bony noses.

Two Ozpins stared back from the depths of the foggy glass, calmly waiting, each holding their own cup of thick black sludge that Glynda only charitably called coffee.

Their appearance brought up the same question, the same idea. How much more he could get done, could he _do_ with one more pair of hands, just one more set of eyes and ears.

_If there was just one more of me._

It was a fanciful notion, if not a completely ridiculous one. There _technically _was equipment that would allow him to be in two places within the same span of time. It was tightly controlled, but given enough time and leverage, it would hardly be difficult to obtain. But he was a young man no longer, and such a method would only waste what little time he had left that much faster.

There was always the other possibility. The one that he had considered and thrown away countless times before, at least once while staring at this same mirror. Another him that was not _him._ An ally, a confidant – someone who shared his intentions and beliefs, a partner he could trust wholly and completely. Someone whose mind he knew as well as his own.

He always discarded the idea as quickly as it appeared, although it would be preferable to a simple carbon copy. Another Ozpin would merely see the same problems, his mind create the same solutions. A partner, with the same ideals but different experiences, would think in ways his tired brain could not. But it was not to be. He might not lack for friends or allies, or assets to be used in the proper time and place, but none were that necessary combination of ready, willing, and able to share in his burden. Ironwood was too shortsighted, Glynda too rigid in her methods and beliefs. Qrow, one of the few who possessed both vision and flexibility, was simply too attached, too prone to drop everything should either of his nieces find themselves in real danger. He might respect their decision to become huntresses, but he was far too close to do what simply had to be done. Not even _he_ could be told the whole plan, for fear of sacrificing all the good they could do to ensure that his sister's child would survive.

So the decision, and responsibility, fell directly on Ozpin's weary shoulders. Ratted, beaten shoulders that ached from the weight of Vale's entire future. A future precariously balanced on so many people doing what he knew or hoped they would do, be it right or wrong. A plan that weighed so heavily on his ability to read others, to know their motivations, and to compensate for the occasional mistake.

Resigned to his task, Ozpin raised the mug to his lips one last time, draining the last dregs of coffee and watching his two doppelgangers do the same. That was the problem. They were the same, down to their last eyelash, to the way they held the cup after finishing it, letting the scent of roasted beans waft into their noses.

Twitching the thick braided rope that hung from the side, he watched his twins blur, then vanish as the curtain swung between them. Saying his goodbyes to the triplets he never had, Ozpin waved his wand, and with a slight pop, he and the mirror vanished from sight.

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**Writer's Note: **So, here's my third entry for RWBY relationship week. The next two may be slightly delayed, depending on life and stuff.


End file.
